


I Clung to You Hoping We'd Drown

by hellaweirdo



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Multi, also is rated mature because theres mention of hot times like twice, and maybe let me know which ones you find thanks, based on my F!sidestep but theres no mention of sidesteps gender nor name (as far as i remember), btw all the mistakes are in here please forgive me and enjoy, but no description nor anything explicit, i just wanted soft gay moments to cry about, mainly focused on argentstep with a short ot3 scene at the end, some retribution spoilers (i think)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 00:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21365164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellaweirdo/pseuds/hellaweirdo
Summary: "The guilt is what gives her away. Guilt and anger and another kind of animal instinct that just screams: Dodge. Hit. Protect. Hers it's the strongest. Constantly around you, inside and out. For a moment, it's almost as if she was hoping you would hear her broadcast so intently. Like she's hoping you come to consciousness and just hear. I'm here. I'm here. Hold on. Please.You hear a growl and a 'motherfucker' before the electricity in the air gets stronger, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at the ready, and you know Ortega is gonna make sure that asshole doesn't take another step towards your or Angie."
Relationships: Lady Argent/Sidestep, Lady Argent/Sidestep (Fallen Hero), Lady Argent/Sidestep/Ortega (Fallen Hero), minor - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	1. Darkness/Softness

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on a Flatsound song. 
> 
> I'm not fluent in english and no one checked this to make sure it was decent (it's been years since i last wrote and published something), so i'm sorry about all the mistakes, word and i tried our best to smooth them out. 
> 
> All praises go to Malin Rydén, whose world and characters i'm using for my own selfishly gay needs.

You can feel a heartbeat, pulsing heavily. Your heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump...

Something about this feels unreal, but you're not exactly sure what. Maybe it's the scalding asphalt scratching your back through the suit, or maybe is the bright, persistent and blinding light, obfuscating your vision through the right side of your face.

But no, that's more confusing than anything. What could've possibly created such light that your helmet couldn't filter it? Except- sunlight.

That explains the feeling of exposure. The lack of HUD interface.

You slowly become aware of a bunch of things, all at once. Coming at you like a suicide train, with no brakes.

One. There's exposed skin on your back, burning with both heat and pain, and something wet you seriously hope is not blood.

Two. Half of your helmet has been blown away, leaving your face exposed to the environment, and the cameras. Also, there's blood in there somewhere. So much blood.

Three. At least one of your ribs is broken. You're wheezing.

Four. The Rat King is screaming at you. Pushing. Trying to drag you away in the only way a bunch of smart little rats can. Run. Run. Run.

Five. Aside from the sounds of battle, of mass against flesh and metal, of yells and gunshots and fast bodies dancing around you. You can also perceive three different mind presences near you. It all becomes clearer the more you become aware of your surroundings.

You feel the animal instinct of hunting, killing, hurting. You. Hurting you. You're are vulnerable and most certainly near the brink of dead. You know this presence too well. You thought you had it under control; and you had, until you didn't. Until you sensed her.

It was exclusively your fault. You know it, you accepted it. You can honestly live, and die, with it. But she doesn't. And the guilt is what gives her away. Guilt and anger and another kind of animal instinct that just screams: Dodge. Hit. Protect. Hers it's the strongest. Constantly around you, inside and out. For a moment, it's almost as if she was hoping you would hear her broadcast so intently. Like she's hoping you come to consciousness and just hear. I'm here. I'm here. Hold on. Please.

And then the static. It blinks in and out. In a way you know for a fact it's entirely your doing. Because normally you can't hear her. Unless you tried to brush against her and felt that sparkly void brushing back. Are you, even semiconscious, trying to get a hold on her? Fuck. It wouldn't surprise you.

A small explosion occurs somewhere close to you. The Rat King is just desperately trying to get you to react and do something. Debris rains over you, falling on your exposed face and forcing you to close your eyes.

Darkness. Isn't that what you've been desperately looking for? Darkness. Calm and soothing. Only it's not soothing, it's fake. You have to get up. If not for you, for the ladies fighting to protect you. Even after all you've done, all you've said, all you are. And you think, if you die right now, who's gonna take care of them? Make sure no villain hits hard enough to kill? Who's gonna take care of the Rat King? Your little buddies, abandoned forever, killed, or back in the hands of someone like their previous owner. You can't have that. You can't.

Shaking limbs on a shaking body. It's all you can manage to not throw up. The exertion doing nightmares to your head.

The breath comes harder each passing second. But you get up, somehow; always up. Your vision is blurry, partly from the caked blood around your eyes, partly because you're probably about to pass out.

Tired. You're so tired. The heat of the battle comes from one of the buildings ahead of you, across the street. You stumble that way, ignoring the five little brains imploring you to go the other way, to leave. You collapse against the side of a flipped car, rubbing the mud out of your eyes enough to catch a glimpse of silver, fast and shiny against the harsh sun and distracted.

You have enough time to hear her yell. "What the fuck are you doing?" Before a giant fist slams against her chest. Simple, a dry hit that sends her flying all the way to where you were lying (you can see the pool of blood there) and farther away, into the crumbling wall.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Painful considering you're already having a hard time breathing. You hear a growl and a "motherfucker" before the electricity in the air gets stronger, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at the ready, and you know Ortega is gonna make sure that asshole doesn't take another step towards your or Angie. 

Angie. Ximena. Your brain is chanting. Get her, get her. You can't see her through the rubble, and there's so much going around to even try to catch her thoughts. Besides, you're pretty sure one more mental strain will knock you out, and your priority is to make sure Argent is fine. Alive. She has to, goddamn it. You're in no shape to help Ortega, and with his new mods, that asshole is too strong for one. And she can't leave you alone.

Luckily you didn't go too far. Backing away from the car you take a couple steps back towards the way you came when you hear a loud crack and part of the wall Argent went through that's still standing blows up as a single, furious silver, fist slams against it. Dramatically revealing a very dusty looking Argent. You get one, one second for a fond smile at her theatrics before a mini missile goes flying past you, and she dodges at the right time, but what was left of the building's foundation finally gives in.

You remember. That asshole.

Turning around. He's just swept Ortega of her feet, her head hitting the ground with a sickening sound that makes you shake in rage. White, hot. You're exhausted. You know this. You also know that he's making his way towards Angie, considering Ortega already done, and you just a delirious cockroach he can step on later, after dealing with the important one. You're in no shape for a one on one fight, not right now. Right now, your mind is by far the less injured.

'I knew exactly what I was doing.'

You let the Rat King wrap around you like a soft armor, aware of what you're about to do, and you let him know who you'd prefer to preserve out of the two of you. You almost hear an echo of "no way", if alien brains could speak. But it takes you a second to make the decision, hand reaching forward. You don't see Angie's eyes open in panic, her expression of dawning terror and her mouth probably forming some variant of 'don't!'

She never tells you.

Pain. Hot. Like nails on fire. And they're sinking in. Through every inch of your brain, of your head. Your body is left behind except for the horrifying scream you let out, a mirror image of the body of he who dared hurt your loved ones. You don't stumble, don't doubt. You grasp and twist and tear. And it's to both of your minds, but his gives up first. Destroyed from the inside out, a hot mush of broken nerves and insanity flooding every thought, every crevice of his brain. You have no mercy; you knew you wouldn't. You burn everything on your path and make a mess of things and you're still screaming, crying, but he crumples to the ground after mere seconds. That's how long it takes you to absolutely obliterate someone's humanity, along with part of yours. But it feels like hours. Years?

Through the pain, you're reminded of someone else. Someone who's method is every similar, less messy, refined. The same destroying thing. A monster. You're a monster. He who you probably just killed is also a monster. But, how did it go? Same amount of killers in the world? You can't think. You feel. Pain. Burn. You fall to the ground and your head is melting, your brain as well. Melting. Like acid. Like-

Darkness.

/

Softness. Your brain has no problem firing up before you're truly awake. It's almost like when you're on the brink of waking up, and the last remnants of your dreams mimic whatever is around you at the time. Except for you is like opening your eyes in the middle of your dream and seeing her.

Argent.

Not touching you, but oh, so close. Her thoughts are tired and worried, but not desperately so. You feel her close and her mind is like a storm and you're on the center of it.

You brush your fingers against her mind, softly, lovingly, the very tips of your essence caressing hers like when you're in the middle of casual dinner at her house, friendly banter a frequent form of courtship you both know so well. And you just complimented her like you sometimes do, effortless, like you've never been in the presence of someone so beautiful, inside and out. You've never been. And she answers automatically, deflecting and teasing and- "I adore you". She's blushing so hard. You hop off the counter, 'finally'. And approach her with arms slowly rising to frame her face, fingers gently sliding against her cheeks, lips on her forehead once, twice, three times before her nose bumps against yours and your lips find each other. Not kissing, just feeling. Skin and warm breath and she feels the same for you and it feels so much like coming home.

A long time ago you promised you'd never violate her mind like you mistakenly did that one time. And you've never had. But it's not uncommon for you to make your presence known superficially. You talked about it. She made it clear that there were boundaries and then bit hard enough to make sure you understood. You do. By now though, you've developed a way to almost communicate without invading. Especially when one of you needs comfort or complicity. She recognizes your presence like familiarity does with the sound of steps or the cadence of a voice.

She's immediately on her feet, you assume, and next to you and her mind is just endearing terms swirling around and it's been so long- worried- the team- blood- home- love-… It slips. You're sure. Such a foreign word, not much the feeling. It’s been there for a while, you have picked it up from stray thoughts and sometimes- sometimes when you’re too tired to talk you just let her know how you feel and you're pretty sure it has escaped you once or twice.

She seems to sense you’re not fully awake. She doesn't mind. You're fine. 'I'm here.' Warm. Calm. A soft lullaby. Still waters.

You fall back asleep.


	2. Light/Noise

Light.

Filtering through your eyelids. Warm and soothing and so familiar. Like a cool finger gently tracing the contours of your face, going up your cheek and to your eyebrow and then down the bridge of your nose and stopping a second too long on your mouth before playfully pulling on your lower lip. You can almost feel the smirk pushing against your mental barrier.

Angie.

You instinctively lower it and smile. You hear her shuffle a little, now sure that you're finally awake.

"What are you smiling at, you cocky little-"

"Shush", you croak. Your throat is dry and sore, but not as much as you had expected it to be. "I was having a nice dream".

"Oh, yeah?" Her tone is amused. Light. Her mind calmer than before when you barely woke up. "Wanna tell me about it?"

"I don't know. Wanna hear about it? It was pretty intense".

She snickers and the bed sinks a little from her weight. Slowly, cautious, you blink your eyes open to a familiar bedroom. The blinds are half open, the sheets fresh. You smell coffee and cinnamon and Angie's shampoo. She's next to you, half sitting on an individual sofa and half reclined with her elbows positioned on the edge of the bed, close to your arm. She looks at home, but you brush against her mind, like giving her a "hello" forehead kiss.

She's tired. Sore. Bruised internally even though her skin looks perfect. You sense even more pain on the center of her chest. From the punch.

The fight. You remember now that your mind is more aware. You remember the pain, your pain, her pain, Ortega's...

"Ortega". It's not a question. Is more of a knee jerk reaction. You can hear the impact of her head against concrete and you wanna throw up. 

Argent looks at you confused for a second, thinking you're continuing the conversation before realization sinks in.

"She's fine. Herald arrived in time to help and we took you both-". She pauses abruptly, her brow furrowed and her head a whirlwind of doubt and a taste of guilt. "I'm sorry". She whispers. "I had to take you to the HQ." Oh no...

She took you to the rangers HQ. Mask broken; skin exposed. You think you maybe start shaking, though your body is cramped and heavy, and you go a sickening shade of pale. It's that your breath? It sounds too heavy. You don't feel it. You don't-

There's a knock to the side of your mind, just as Argent reaches up and grabs you by your chin. Hard. Not painful, no claws. She just grabs you, pulls you in, makes sure you're looking at her directly as she tries to soothe down your anxiety. The pressure is grounding, it always is. You focus on her calm breathing, chests rising in unison and her mind it's intent on pushing down everything that's making you panic so bad. You both know the drill and it's enough that you let her wash over you until the only thing you are paying attention to is the color of her eyes and how much you wish you could wrap yourself with her around like a blanket.

She caresses the spot on your chin where her fingers were and doesn't stop.

"I took care of everything". Even her voice is low and gentle, a mere murmur. "No one saw anything. I couldn't do much about the doctors, besides covering your face, but they've been warned. I will even let you go back to alter their memories. I just- I had to".

Her voice breaks. There are no visible tears in her eyes, but they look especially shiny and you know she's trying very hard to be the one that comforts you instead of the other way around.

"I thought about bringing you here. You've been living with me enough that half of the rooms have some sort of emergency stash." Her laugh is dry, forced. "But...".

You nod. Half of what you remember is fuzzy, but you know that whatever you did, whatever happened, was too much for disinfectant and bandages. Too much for a common hospital. You don't ask about the corpse either.

"C'mere". You weakly pat the bed. Maybe she senses how raw you feel, maybe she feels the same. Anyway, there's no room for teasing as she hops onto the bed, over you, mindful of your broken body, and carefully curls against your side, body resting on her elbow and head on her palm. She's looking at you from above with soft admiration and tenderness you never knew existed.

You want to touch her. You can. It almost deserves a delighted laugh. You think you'll never get used to it, to being allowed to touch her, welcomed. She often encourages it, and right now her open expression is the nicest of welcomes. Doesn't flinch, doesn't move forward; she just watches you and smiles and you're home.

Testing your tight muscles, you raise your arm towards her chin, almost sweating by the time the back of your fingers touches her cool skin. She lowers her head enough to kiss your hand.

"I hate to ask". Your hand stays there, resting against her face. The teasing smirk floats back. Such a beautiful sight.

"Yes?"

"Is my suit okay?"

She snorts. She honest to all the gods in the universe _snorts _and your stomach does somersaults, your throat tightens with tons of feelings.

"Oh, honey. All the important parts are okay but you're gonna need to talk to that doctor of yours for a reconstruction. Something less ominous this time, please."

You think you might pout but before anything happens, she adds.

"Besides, don't even think you're going back to your villainy acts so soon. You still have a long way to go".

Then you pout. And It's kind of fun.

"Don't say that! I worked so hard getting back in shape, I can't go back to-".

It doesn't matter though. Not really. Not when is Ximena you're arguing with and not when she kisses you to shut you up because she knows you're a sucker for it. You are. For her as well.

She kisses you soft, like she does. You can feel the taste of love in the tip of your tongue and the way kissing her is no longer conflicting, but natural. You break apart but your noses bump into each other's and neither of you moves. Just breathing, feeling warm. _I love you. _You think. _I love you I love you I love you I love- Your_ thoughts are so strong.

Your mouth opens at its own volition. Only when no sound comes out is that she speaks.

"Just say it".

A sigh.

"I love you". You do.

"I love you too". She does.

/

You can sense it before you even open your eyes. Your mind is barely awake, but the feeling is there, pulsing within your subconscious with a soft blaring alarm that steadily grows in volume.

Warm. Comfort.

Pressure.

No, touch. A soft touch.

Slick and cold in a refreshing way.

Enough to make you shiver and another small part of your brain awakes.

A current of air hits the left most side of your bare back, the sheet draped just over your lower body. Your left hand, your nano-hand, hangs over the side of the bed, and your fingers brush the soft carpet when you stretch them.

Your right side is a little more indecipherable. That arm currently cushioned under both your head and pillow is void of feeling. But what really wakes you up is the weird sensation against the rest of your body.

Not overly cold, not warm like your own skin. You sense something that feels like "_good morning_". A pause. "_Love_". Not directly, not words, not completely on purpose. Just hazy and warm, like a comfort blanket in the coldest of nights.

The feeling on your back stops for a second, hovers cautiously when the muscles on your back stretch, and then continues its path. One finger, then three. Gently, lovingly, drawing, caressing, memorizing every little mark on your back. Tattoos and scars and self-marks.

'_Ximena_.' your mind mumbles. Slurred and happy and it takes you a moment to realize you said it aloud.

A soft 'humph' and the weight on the mattress shifts. You feel her body sprawl over half of your back, like a cat that doesn't care about personal space and only about the heat radiating off you and how comfortable it is.

She kisses the shell of your ear and her voice is teasing.

"Took you long enough. You normally feel me after seconds, are you getting soft? Old?"

You puff. How dare she? You don't mind the old part, not like Ortega at least, but soft? She's literally curled against your naked body.

You try to turn around, ready for a bit of a morning... (_snack?_), but her whole body tenses, her hand an anchor against the edge of the bed and she keeps you pinned and you let her because suddenly your entire body is awake and running. It's been weeks since the accident, and though your mind is still a little sore your body is not, and you realize she knows this. It's in the grin on her voice and the way she happily starts covering more of your body with hers.

"You're not going anywhere".

It's threatening, it's scary, it's exciting and hot and you're so lucky.

Your raise your left arm and hold onto the back of her neck, pulling her tighter against you when her lips starts leaving goosebumps on the back of your neck and down, _down, down_.

And if she gets softer the deeper your scars get, neither of you comment on it because maybe you don't need to say aloud what you already know.

You let her touch and kiss and forcefully put you on your back. She lets you bury your fingers on her hair and pull. And it's hot and messy and just the right amount of soft and gentle and lazy like mornings are.

There´s too much going on in your life to spend another morning sleeping in and being just overall lazy. You have duties, things to do, people to see, a system to bring down, a suit to take care of. And yet… _You're shaking. Muscles tensing. Pull, pull, pull, hold… You hold your breath, like you always do, a second too long. She slides her hand from your chest to your throat, soft, like she always does. Exhale. You let go. Inhale. Of everything. _And yet, you're here like almost every morning for the past few months and the guilt doesn't settle for long because, why would it? You're tired of setting your own limits, you wanna be free like you promised yourself you would and right now that freedom is looking at you from under hooded eyes and you take it. You take her, and there's nothing better than the permission she gives you to go wild. So, you go wild. But before you do, you take a pause to whisper.

"I'm not" and hope she understands it all.

/

_Noise. _

The creak of footsteps on wooden floor. Low voices that sound like bickering. The door opening. Wild ocean and void.

The chatter grows louder as you blink your eyes open. The TV is still on with some weird indie movie that you don't remember the name of, so you just blindly reach for the remote that's definitely not on the floor and mindlessly scroll through the program list, paying more attention to the pair in the kitchen talking about some Ranger stuff.

You hear your name from the other side of the room as Ortega, probably noticing the TV change and your legs stretch over the arm rests, calls you.

"Want a beer?"

"Yeah" you mumble just loud enough.

Maybe a minute passes before you feel her weight over the back of the couch and a freezing sensation hit the side of your, still warm from sleep, cheek.

"Ugh, asshole!" You throw your hand in the air, hoping to at least hit her a little bit, but she's expecting it and dodges without a problem. "Ange, why did you even bring her?" Ortega dissolves into a fit of laughter.

"She's been following me for hours, couldn't shake her off". But she's also laughing, a little quieter, because that's the kind of laughter that's always hers. You feel her walk past your head, briefly kiss your temple before setting on the individual couch next to yours.

"Just give me my beer, idiot". Your eyes lock with Ortega's, the radiant smile, smelling like trouble, your only clue before she hops over the couch, and on top of your body. Not even spilling a little bit of beer, probably experience from one too many bar fights.

"Here you go, babe". You let out an "_Uff_" before slapping her on the leg, hard enough to make her wince but not enough to erase the grin on her face.

"Fuck you".

"Gladly".

A snort. "Children".

"You love it". A rolled-up napkin hits your head. She doesn't deny it, simply settles in with her slice of pie and a happy little face.

/

It's darker outside. Probably just past sunset when you awake up for the second time, still laying on the same position, your legs still stretch over the arm rest. But now there's another warm body pressed between your body and the back of the couch, her head nestled against you neck, hands close to her chest and legs intertwined with yours. You move your arm around her shoulder to push her hair out of the way and plant a soft kiss against her forehead, followed by another to the bridge of her nose that makes her stir enough to mutter a few incoherent words and then cuddle closer to you.

Once you're sure she's fine you turn your attention towards finding Ximena. It doesn’t take long to notice the light behind your head, but her thoughts are hard to decipher. She's focused on something, and you have the feeling that she's not ready to share just yet.

Stretching your neck, careful not to disturb Ortega's sleeping form, you look at Angie's form before softly calling out to her.

"Hey, what are you doing all the way there? Come cuddle".

Her eyes don't leave the laptop's screen, but she doesn't bother hiding the fond smile on her face.

"Not exactly a lot of space there".

"What?" you feign offense. "Think I can't handle two ladies laying on top of me? Please".

She hums but stays quiet. The concentration written too deeply on her face as she hunches over the laptop and reads whatever's caught her attention so strongly you can't even catch a glimpse of it. Concern floods your mind immediately, and after brief consideration you reach out and brush against her mind, leaving behind traces of worry and care and _"you know you can talk to me"._

She keeps reading for a moment before abruptly pausing, apparently too deep in thought to notice you at first. There's hesitation in her mind, enough that you fear she might just ignore you and keep working on whatever has her so caught up; and who knows how long she's been there, you have no idea when you two fell asleep. But before long you hear a grunt and the laptop snaps shut. _'you're insufferable'_

She walks towards you, stopping just behind your head and leaning to kiss you upside down. Hard and long. Tasting sweet and with a tint of _'not right now.' _But later, definitely later. And you know it's not because Ortega's there, more like she's still mulling it over inside her head and you know it takes time to put everything in order before she's ready to tell either of you. It'll come, with time. You make sure to sound as reassuring as possible. Your free hand pulling her closer a little too brusque for the sleeping mass next to you, who groans and burrows further into the cloth of your shirt like a child.

Parting with an amused smile you hold onto the back of Angie's head and kiss the corner of her mouth.

"I meant it, come lay with us". After all, her fancy couch is indeed big enough that if she lays on top of you all three can fit. "We'll talk about it, when you're ready. Right now, I just want my girls with me".

You'll have time to worry about whatever's going on with her, with you, with the three of you, with your villain career and your relationship with the Rangers and the press and Hollow Ground and…

She drops on top of you before you spiral down the rabbit hole, as if sensing- almost definitely sensing your trouble. Her head rests on your chest and it's not until your free arm wraps around her waist and you feel Ortega's hand that you realize she must've caught at least a bit of that. You interlace your fingers with hers and softly kiss both their heads as you force your breath to slow down, then you wait.

Maybe it's ten minutes, maybe an hour, but it's not until you're sure they're both sleep that you let the tears fall freely. You’re not sobbing, not exactly, too focused on not disturbing them to really let go of your restraints, but there's plenty of tears to make up for it. A combination of happy tears, and undeserving tears, and maybe I deserve this tears, maybe I don't tears, maybe I feel a little too human tears. I love them tears.

You have no idea how you made it this far, feeling too unreal to really get into it. But, right now? Right now, there's feelings building right under your ribs too strong to ignore and too big to let go of.

Is this even meant to last? You don't wanna know. There's- there's more than you in game now and if one thing you can be sure of it's that now is not the time to let self-doubt overwhelm you. Not when your breathing is mingling with theirs and their heartbeats are beating so hard against your flesh. Your slashed flesh, like you didn't cause enough pain to cut you off for good. Like you're not still a villain, constantly in war with their side; even if awareness and the knowledge is there, you know there's something bound to break, and you can’t wait to see who ends up where. Can't help but hope the drawn short straw is yours. Maybe. Hopefully.

/

_When morning comes, there's no confusion at waking up sandwiched between the two of them. There’re no bad feelings, only tranquility and maybe, maybe, something brewing behind the surface that you don't dare disturb. You think you manage to sneak of fast enough to wash your face that they don’t see the dry traces of tears. But Ortega is waiting outside the bathroom door to pull you into a bruising kiss that eventually turns soft and shaky and maybe… And she must leave because Steel needs her help and she kisses you both goodbye, lingers a little, leaves with a wink. _

_After breakfast Ximena pulls you in and hugs you long and quiet, kisses you just the same. Makes love to you the way you both need it. Let’s you take care of her nice and good. And you don’t mind that they noticed, not when both understand so much more and just _know. _That maybe it's okay right here, right now, to just let it be. _


End file.
